Has it been that long? Day 2697

Oh my gosh. I can't believe I haven't written in here for a year. Wow.

So I was supposed to have the other half of my teeth pulled this past Friday but we were snowed in. It's been rescheduled for May 9th and I'm on the cancellation list. After the teeth come out and the gums heal, I can get fitted for my dentures. I can't wait till this is over. I want teeth back!!!

It's been a rough year. My dad died this past December and, remarkably or not, I had basically no feelings about it. He was my dad, but he was dad in absentia, and there wasn't really a relationship there. He didn't like my kids - well, except Becky - and I have trouble with people, especially family people, who don't like my kids for no good reason other than they don't like them. He was a sick man both physically and mentally. I don't have many memories of him but the ones I do have aren't the best. I feel bad for him and I hope he found peace with God before he died. I really, honestly, don't know if he did.
It was hard at the funeral hearing them talk about how kind he was to his grandkids. He sure wasn't nice to my kids. He blamed them for all kinds of things and was kinda mean to them. Of course, Mom said he was abusive to me too, so it's just a continuation of the story, I guess. I suppose the grandkids he was nice to are the ones his second family of kids had. They were probably perfect just like his girls were. They couldn't do anything wrong in his eyes. Of course, he raised them. He wasn't around us much and once the divorce went through I only saw him one other time until I was 18. He'd write, I heard, but Mom, bless her heart, burned the letters and kept the child support checks when he bothered to send one.
Oh well, enough of that. He's gone now. I hope he found peace.

I've been struggling with my weight - still - like I have my whole life. It's a constant battle. I eat, and then I feel bad, so I criticize myself, and then I feel bad, so I eat. See a pattern here? Yeah, me too. It's been that way as long as I can remember - as far back as kindergarten, even. It got worse when my stepdad messed with me, jerk that he was....there are enough willing women in the world....why do some pervs have to mess up the lives and minds of poor little girls who are all innocent and stuff? They should be castrated. Seriously. Cut their parts off and let them pee through a suprapubic catheter for the rest of their lives. It's almost comparable to the crap we go through hating ourselves and thinking we were the ones who asked for Daddy dearest to grope us, or worse....and then we have eating disorders, struggle to make friends and trust people, and are basically screwed up until we either get intensive counseling, learn to live with it, or die....

Yeah. I'm a bit introspective today. Yanno what though? This is probably good. I need to get the junk out of my brain so I can acknowledge it and stop pretending everything was fine and it's my fault I'm 100 pounds overweight. Because it's not my fault. I was molested and beaten and psychologically abused and neglected, and I covered my tender, scared, vulnerable little girl with fat to protect her since the people in my life who should have done that didn't do it. I had to do something. And now, 45+ years later, I struggle with trying to unlearn this coping mechanism, and every time I get kinda going on it, something else comes up, and the mechanism kicks back into high gear and I'm at it again.

I wanna do so many things and I struggle still with the judgmental voices telling me I'm not going to succeed; I'm not going to do it right; I should have done it earlier; I should have done something else; I'm aiming too high or not high enough; those voices get so firmly ingrained in your psyche it's almost impossible to get them to shut up. I'm not saying it can't be done. What I'm saying is that it's really hard and you need lots of support and a cheering section, and my small cheering section and sometimes not so strong support people struggle right now to get from day to day, so that....well, it ain't going all that well, okay? I'm lucky sometimes to get from morning till night without wanting to just give up.

But I can't give up. God won't let me. He loves me, and He hangs on to me even when my hand goes all floppy-like and I'm dragging my feet and bawling and whining and having one big fat grand pity party, and He sits down and holds out his hands and then He hugs me and lets me cry and He comforts me and tells me it'll be okay, that He's not gonna judge me because I'm overweight or because I take narcotics for pain or because I only have 11 teeth or because of my thinning hair or because I pick at my sores....or because my youngest daughter won't let me see her kids, or because we can't afford to go on a vacation and I really, really, really need one...He loves me anyhow. He's gonna be here no matter what happens or who craps on me or what breaks or how rotten I feel. He's right here next to me no matter what. And He tells me I'm not a loser and I'm not ugly and I'm not useless or worthless, and it gets into the cracks in my lumpy, glued up heart, and I know for a minute or two again that I'm gonna make it, and I'm strengthened enough to go on and tackle the next battle.

I'm going to write my book and I'm going to have it published and someone is going to read it and be helped.....inspired.....motivated.....encouraged.....strengthened.....and they'll be able to go on for another day because I shared my story. It's going to happen. I'm not giving up. I will succeed.

God bless us all, and hug us in His arms, and love us just because we're His. 

Amen.

Losing my teeth

Between the gastric bypass surgery I had in 2003, the meds I'm taking that give me horrid dry mouth, my sleep apnea, and the fact that I'm a long-time mouth breather, my teeth are really starting to fall apart in my mouth. I bit down on a piece yesterday morning that broke off the back right upper molar that is falling apart at this time. I think most of what is left of that tooth is the filling. There's not much at all left of the teeth on the right side of my mouth, upper or lower, past the pre-molars. They've all broken off or been pulled. On the left it's a bit better, but not by much. I have one that had to be pulled, and I have one that is split but still all in my mouth. I feel it wiggling if I bite down just so or if I eat the wrong thing. I'm just waiting for it to fall out.

I see a dentist in St. Louis on February 27th to talk to him about IV sedation surgery to extract all my teeth and put in dentures. It's the only reasonable thing to do. I'm at risk for infection now; my teeth look awful and my breath stinks. It's not healthy and it looks and feels awful. I'm hoping it won't be long before it's done. I hate how it feels. We want to sell and move away from here but we can't do anything until the teeth are done because we need hubby's insurance to get them done. We sure can't afford to do it otherwise. Hopefully we can get it set up, they can do my impressions, and we can get this over with so I can get on with my life not feeling too self-conscious to smile because of my broken and rotting teeth.

I'm struggling this week with fatigue and not having the energy to exercise in spite of the fact that I know I need it. I just don't have any energy. It's pretty frustrating.

I don't want to be sick any more. I'm done.

Wednesday morning - day 2314

I have an interesting feeling this morning. It's like I can feel my hair coming out of my head. I don't know if that describes it correctly, but it feels literally like I am aware of each hair coming out of my scalp. It doesn't hurt - yet. It's rather a sensation I'm not familiar with; something new I'm not comfortable experiencing yet. It's probably just another manifestation of the nerve issues I'm so familiar with now.

On the 27th I see the dentist. This one does general anesthesia. I'm looking to get all my teeth pulled and have a full set of dentures. I have so many cavities it's awful and I can't tolerate the vibrating sensation of a rotating toothbrush. The meds I'm on cause extreme dry mouth, I'm a mouth breather by nature; and, combined with everything else, this has led to my teeth starting to break, chip and fall apart. The only solution other than paying for general anesthesia every 6 months or more often to get them cleaned and cared for once hubby retires next year is to have a mass extraction and have a set of dentures placed. I have to be realistic....we're not going to have the money to do that. I know keeping my own teeth is best but over half of the ones in my mouth need work, many of them major work, and it's not going to get any better. I might as well face it now and get it done while we still have insurance.

I'm dealing with some emotional stuff lately. Every once in a while things from the past come to the surface and I process them to the best of my ability. I think it only happens a bit at a time because I couldn't handle facing it all at once. There's just too much there to deal with in one lump. God is gracious that way - He gives me only what I can handle with His help. It's always been that way. He's always taken care of me. Even in the scary times He was there and he stayed my molester's hand when a certain point was reached....not that there wasn't damage done, but He only allowed so much and then He stopped the enemy from trying to destroy me. I am so grateful for His love and protection....there's no way to put it into words. I don't know what I'd do without Him.

I've gained back most of the weight I lost after my surgery. It's very discouraging. Between the meds, the forced reduction in activity due to intolerance, and stress, I just keep losing the fight with the food monster. It's hard not to eat bad stuff when I've coped this way all my life. It's not like drugs or booze where you can just stay away. You have to eat. And, once I start, it's hard for me to stop. It is my major coping mechanism. With all that's going on in the family, it's really hard for me to eat the right stuff. I guess I need to spend more time in prayer and on my face before God; I know if I can get past my fears and learned behaviors, and if I can trust in Him, I can take this weight back off. We did it together before, and we can do it again. I just need to remind myself of that.

Hanging in there - day 2022

Sometimes it just seems like the same drudgery day after day after day.

I still can't sleep in our bed more than an hour or two. I stop breathing and that's just not a good thing. I doubt I've slept in bed more than three times in the last year. I know if I lost some weight I'd be better off, but the stress here has been so incredibly high I've been eating to compensate, which is a learned behavior and coping mechanism, so I've not managed to lose anything lately.

I stopped riding my exercise bike for a while when I was feeling really non-motivated but I started up again so I'm hoping to get back into the groove with that. It makes me feel better and I don't get that couch potato sensation as much as when I'm just hanging out watching TV and web-surfing.

I'm glad it's coming up on spring. This was a bad winter for depression symptoms. I don't sleep in bed but when I sit down for more than a few minutes I doze off, whether here in my recliner or on the couch or even, this year for the first time, at the sewing machine. That was kinda weird.

I am so glad God is in my life. He is my strength, my all-sufficiency, my All in All, my healer and deliverer. I will look to Him and not to the physical manifestations. I will focus on His grace and mercy and not on my own human shortcomings.

I would be lost without Him. I am grateful for the Cross and redemption and the resurrection power of Jesus Christ. Without the Blood, I would have no hope. I hope you can find this too.

man, it's been a while

I forget to write in here and my other blog. My brain isn't what it used to be. I forget lots of things. I make lists and lose them. Now that's scary.

Okay, update....forget weaning off the Methadone. The Nurse Practitioner says as long as I'm only taking 0.25 of the Xanax they can leave me on 40mg of Methadone. Hallelujah! Though lately it's certainly not pulling its weight like before, I'm still very thankful for the relief I do get. I fully realize that the docs don't have to give me such powerful drugs even though I am in life-altering pain. I'm grateful I found a pain doc who isn't opposed to the use of narcotics for pain management when it's necessary.

I've been feeling so icky lately I kinda slacked off on the exercise. Now I have this wonderful cold that's moving down into my chest and if I got on my bike I'd be hacking my lungs half out. I think I'll make myself get on there tomorrow though and do half an hour anyhow, even if I do it on the lowest setting and don't last the hour I usually do. Anything is better than nothing, eh?

I know this is discombobulated. I just don't have the ability to focus very much right now. My pain level is going up and I'm gonna have to go pop a Vicodin again before it gets out of control.

Thanks to everyone who reads and leaves supportive notes. I pray you have a nice holiday season.(did that sound PC enough?)

Merry Christmas and God bless you all. I appreciate you. You're in my prayers.

Day 1791 - Oh, help.

When it rains, it pours.

So the pain doc wants me to wean off the Methadone eventually. I'm not sure what he wants me to take, since there isn't much else I can take in a realistic sense; anyhow, I've been half-heartedly looking for another pain management group in the hopes they will help me get control of the pain without insisting I increase my stress level, and thereby my pain level, by suggesting from the get-go that I consider how I want to wean off the drugs that enable me to function on a daily basis as at least a minimally contributing member of society.

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Now, my mom has decided I am: 1) Addicted to my prescription meds. This is, in her eyes, happening in spite of the fact that I am monitored by my pain med doc, my psychiatrist, and a neurologist in addition to my primary doc. It's amazing that none of these physicians, who see me a heck of a lot more often than she does, haven't noticed this so-called addiction....2) Lazy and need to go back to work in addition to getting out and walking like she does to get some exercise. Never mind that I have a bad knee and have been told that walking or other weight-bearing exercises, for the time being, will only hasten the eventual necessity of a knee replacement. Add to this that there are very, very few people I know of who want a nurse on Methadone to control pain, one who nods off from the narcotic dose required to keep the pain manageable, to take care of themselves or their family members...3) Hubby and I are, in her words, perverted and sick. My sister, whose own life is a mess on good days, told mom hubby and I are into S&M which, though it would be none of their business if it were true, is a blatant lie. I don't have a masochistic bone in my body. I don't like pain. It hurts. However, she believed said sister, and proceeded to write me a letter telling me I'm fat, lazy, addicted, perverted and sick. Nice, loving mother, huh? Anybody want her?

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About the knee...several weeks back I did something to it. I can't remember what, or when, but it probably had to do with chickens, since that is where I get most of my activity. Anyhow, I finally got off my butt and called the orthopedist last week. I saw him Tuesday. They did the perfunctory X-rays. He saw them, and then we all saw them. The left knee is on its way out. It's not going today, or tomorrow, but it's not going to last forever. Most of it is probably a combination of working on my feet for 15 years as a nurse and being obese. I will accept that. I'm not gonna hide it. Interestingly enough I had planned on starting Weight Watchers again with Abby this week; the orthopedist was happy to hear that. In addition, I had been considering a recumbent bike or one of those foot pedaling things, largely because between my environmental allergies and my pain, I don't do well with outside exercise. I either hurt, break out, or both. Indoor, non-weight-bearing exercise seems the best way to go.

He numbed my knee with the funny spray freezy stuff and an OUCH of Lidocaine and then drained about 50cc of fluid off said knee and injected some cortisone to help with the inflammation, all after managing to convince me that it wasn't going to hurt as much as cortisone injections into soft tissue do. I have a friend who has those kinds of injections and she locks up and is in horrid pain for a few days after her shots. I didn't want anything to do with that. Oh and by the way - he did a great job. He is a good shot and didn't lie to me, which I really appreciate. He says we can do those until they don't work, and then we can inject fluid of a lubricant style into the capsule to help movement after that, and then, in the future, we'll look at surgical management. This is my kind of doctor.

I talked it over with hubby and ordered a Schwinn recumbent bike this week. Once it's here, I'll be building a close relationship with it. It will help me lose weight, help my activity tolerance, and it will lengthen the amount of time I can wait before needing to undergo the knife again. I mean, it's only been 7 weeks since I had my right hand carpal tunnel surgery done; the left wrist and elbow (it was more involved than the right side) was done in November of last year. I'm starting to feel like a guinea pig. At least these scars aren't from self-mutilation, eh?

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So, I have a sister or two that are upset that I hung up on them - my younger when she tried to tell me that I need to let my mom do what she wants to in my house, to which I said, "It's my house, and she plays by my rules or doesn't play. I'm not her patsy any more and she's not going to intimidate me or make me feel guilty any more." (Okay, so we're still working on that) My older sister - well, I hung up on her after she lied to me when I asked her if she knew what was up with Mom and then called me back several hours later to tell me she had told Mom hubby and I are supposedly into S&M. Now this sister has been married 3 times, she cheated on her first two husbands and then married someone who verbally abuses her and has cheated on her in addition to getting fired from a fantastic job at Disney because the person he was cheating with was his boss' wife...and she has a right to judge me?

NOT.

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Okay. So there we are. Bum left knee, maybe bum right knee as well - we just haven't looked at that one yet. Pain doc I'm not thrilled with because he seems to be hell-bound to get me off my pain medication and onto, what, short acting narcotics? He wants me to wean off the Methadone and, according to the research, there is "a chance" once I go back on it I won't need as much, if I need any at all. Okay. So what do I take in the meantime....or do I just get nothing, and go back to being in so much pain it's almost not worth living? I get the feeling he thinks I don't need this medication or he's getting pressure from the DEA, which wouldn't be a surprise since they seem to delight in tormenting physicians who actually act in their patient's behalf and give them adequate medication for chronic pain...and there is a big part of the problem. Many people in the medical community pooh-pooh those with chronic pain, even claiming that we don't need the meds that keep us going day to day. Just because you can't see or put your finger on the cause of my pain doesn't mean it isn't there. It just means it's invisible. It's still pain. It still hurts. It still interferes with my life. I still get judged, even by my own family members. And, I deal daily with the knowledge that I cannot work outside the home, which means even those of us with degrees and training end up in pain. Even those who aren't addicts or uneducated or what have you end up in pain, the kind of pain that leaves you begging God to take you home. Yeah, it hurts like hell. And to have people negate or minimize that pain hurts like hell, too, because it invalidates what we feel and experience, and what many of us struggled to hide because we knew what we were going to face when we revealed that we were taking narcotics to control our pain. I'm not the only one whose family members have decided that there is an addiction problem when the meds are being taken for a chronic pain issue. People tend to disbelieve what they can't see. If I was missing a leg, or two, would it make my pain medication prescription more justified? Why? Is the pain my nerves shoot across my face and into my eye socket like an ice pick heading for my brain any less valid than pain from an amputation?

Sorry for the rambling. I'm a bit muddled these days.

not so bad....

I get horribly introspective now and then, and my last post was reflective of that.  It's rough, but I managed to pull myself up and remind myself how blessed I really am.  Once in a while, though, it's good to be brutally honest even if it hurts.  It's far better than hiding it way back inside somewhere and letting it fester.  It is part of my mental health status that this happens, and I have learned that denying it doesn't change its existence.  Many people are taken aback or shocked when they see that I can get that way.  I live with it; it doesn't surprise me any more.

I was scheduled for a sleep study last night.  Apparently they use some nasty scented dryer sheets on the bed linens and after about half an hour in the room, waiting on the nurse to come and hook me up to the plethora of wires that are required for such a techno-savvy test, I was about to wilt into a puddle of upchuck.  I turned everything off and left the room.  As I made my way down the hallway she came up and asked if I was okay.  I explained what was going on and we agreed my only alternative was to leave.  We had already been questioning the wisdom of sticking so many patches to someone allergic to adhesive and latex and everything else I don't tolerate.  I guess it was decided for us, no?

I've managed to stay eating very well since I got sick last weekend.  I believe I've lost an inch off my waist already.  I feel looser in my clothes, if that makes sense.  It's a nice feeling not to have the fabrics snug on your body, but instead to have to reach down and tug up a skirt or a pair of pettipants once in a while.  I'm certainly not going to complain.  I can always make more if I need to.

I'm sticking with several small meals, very little bread or other carbs from processed grain, and more protein and fresh stuff.  I've had cantaloupe, strawberries, yogurt, mesquite turkey breast, cheese, some whole grain crackers, nuts (mostly raw ones, thank you Target), and jello.  Last night we had some of the Breyer's low carb ice cream bars with almond pieces in the chocolate.....oh, they sure don't taste low carb, but they are pretty much the only chocolate I can eat without paying for it later.  I have cut my diet soda intake in half by making sure that every other thing I drink is either sugar free koolaid, gatorade if I'm feeling like I need to replace electrolytes, or the like. 

God is good.  He is with me and He holds me up when I falter, patiently loving me back to sensibility.  And because of that, I am blessed.